


Remnants

by kazul9



Series: Some Flowers Bloom Dead [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BAMF Katsuki Yuuri, Don’t copy to another site, Enemies to Lovers, Flowers, Fluff, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Hellenistic Religion & Lore), M/M, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-01-13 09:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/pseuds/kazul9
Summary: Short explorations of Resplendentverse stories.





	1. XXV.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Yuuri wanted something a little different for winning his fencing match in chapter twenty-five?

They take their stances, no more chatting, and the match begins.

They circle one another, Victor still keeping his distance. That’s fine. This isn’t like the last time. Victor was right, Yuuri hadn’t been well rested. This round is different.

Yuuri makes the first move, stepping out and attacking in a flash of metal and whisper of wind.

Victor’s eyes widen just a fraction before parrying. He opens his mouth to say something, but Yuuri moves again, their blades screeching together as Victor barely deflects the hit.

He doesn’t try to talk after that.

Yuuri keeps up the attack, pushing Victor around the courtyard without any damn _opening_. He knew it was a lot to hope that he could beat Victor while he’s not literally having the life sucked out of him and isn’t consumed by emotion, but he has to _try_.

Victor tries to get in an attack or two, but Yuuri turns it against him, arm moving so fast he barely even thinks before he _does_. Sweat beads on Victor’s brow, their breaths clouding the air, the only noises being their shuffling steps, rustling fabric, and the metal of the swords amidst the deathly cold and quiet of winter. His moves are getting sloppier as the seconds tick by, Yuuri clinging to his _need_ to win, letting it sear underneath his skin.

Victor parries and lunges forward, aiming for Yuuri’s gut. Yuuri smacks his blade away, sliding the edge of his own sword underneath Victor’s chin.

“Looks like I win,” Yuuri pants.

Victor just nods, huffing out a large breath as he raises his arms. So out of breath he can’t even talk? Yuuri eyes him for a moment, then almost lowers his blade—but pauses. He won’t ever admit it aloud, but the power that traces softly through his veins at seeing Victor like this—surrendered, at Yuuri’s mercy, not even glaring—well… Yuuri might enjoy it a little.

“I imagine you want something this time?” Victor finally manages to get out, arms lowering a little as he seems to focus on breathing.

“Well…” Yuuri did come here wanting something. He still wants it, really. On some level Yuuri knows that’s what he should focus on but his mind just won’t give in. He adjusts the blade in his palm, keeping it steady while he himself takes a step toward Victor.

Victor could easily back away, demand that Yuuri ask for what he wants and be on his way.

But he doesn’t.

“Enjoying the view?” Victor cocks half a grin, but… but he swallows and Yuuri doesn’t miss the tremble that passes through him. Yuuri doesn’t miss how his eyes flit around, never settling on anything for too long.

Yuuri doesn’t miss that Victor’s nervous.

And Yuuri… well, he _definitely_ enjoys this.

“And what if I do?” Yuuri edges the blade to the side, making Victor tilt his head.

Victor’s breath stutters, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. When he opens them, he doesn’t take his eyes off of Yuuri, his pupils swelling slightly. “Why then, feel free to look, dear husband.”

Yuuri’s grip tightens, the blade jarring enough to brush Victor’s skin. _Husband_. The word has become a brand against his skin—but this time it burns for another reason. Victor’s soft tone holds no venom, no bitterness. Like he _doesn’t_ hate being married to Yuuri. Like he wants…

“But what if looking’s not enough?” Yuuri lowers his tone, letting himself search Victor’s face. “What if I want to touch?”

Victor’s breath stutters, and it’s another moment before he replies. “But you already are touching. Your blade’s against my skin.”

Yuuri leans in closer, even as a small part of him screams about what a mistake this is, about how he needs to stop this before it’s far too late. But he’s _tired_ , and he _wants._ It aches in his bones like an actual physical need, and he’s done ignoring and denying himself the things that he craves. “What if I want more?”

Victor whimpers, just a soft noise that Yuuri only catches because he’s so very close. This… Yuuri’s doing this to Victor. There’s no denying the reaction that Yuuri has on Victor. On his husband.

“You won this match.” Victor swallows again, as if parched. “I-I’m yours.”

“Are you really?” Yuuri leans in nearer, enough so that he can feel Victor’s breath hot and quick against his own lips. He looks up at Victor through hooded eyes. “You can say no, you know. Just like you offered me.”

The quiet grows and boils with something taut. The need to close the distance between them itches beneath Yuuri’s skin, but Victor doesn’t meet his eyes. Victor doesn’t move—if it weren’t for his panting breaths, Yuuri would be wondering if he were even alive. But, no. There’s a pink flush dusting Victor’s cheeks, not the pale lifelessness that Yuuri knows it could be.

Gods, Yuuri shouldn’t be pushing Victor like this. He should back away and demand what he was going to ask before.

Which was… what, again?

“I don’t want to say no,” Victor finally manages to whisper. “I want…” Victor’s eyes finally meet Yuuri’s blue is slowly devoured by black as his flush deepens.

Yuuri doesn’t have to wait for him to finish that sentence.

It’s clear what Victor wants.

The sword slips from Yuuri’s grip as he reaches out, fingers searching along Victor’s cheeks before pulling him down and meeting his lips. For a moment Victor stays still, but Yuuri doesn’t have time to second-guess anything before Victor’s hands are firm on his hips, pulling them even impossibly closer, and— _oh_ , Victor really does want this.

Yuuri tilts his head, licking and nipping along Victor’s lips until he’s let in. He thrusts his tongue into Victor’s mouth and devours the whimper he gets in return. Victor may have held all the power in their relationship up until this point, but now it’s Yuuri’s turn to have this. It’s Yuuri’s turn to take and to take and to _take—_

Victor draws back, the winter air especially chill against Yuuri’s burning skin. He opens his mouth, but before he can get in a word there’s a noise.

A bark.

Something slams into Yuuri’s side in time with the regret that settles heavy and churning into his stomach. Somewhere on the edge of Yuuri’s consciousness, he registers Victor’s voice. It doesn’t seem angry, not low and dangerous, or high and upset. But he can’t focus on it any more than he can focus on Makka shifting all over him, probably slobbering up his face. Gods, it’s good he didn’t wear glasses while fencing today, between Makka’s saliva, and Victor—

Yuuri… He’d just kissed Victor.

He started it. After all this time of trying to put distance between them, he just…

Without a word Yuuri gets to his feet and begins to walk out of the courtyard. He’s sure Victor says something—or maybe he doesn’t, who knows, Yuuri is his mortal enemy after all—but it isn’t like Yuuri will stop and listen to it. In fact, he listens to no one and nothing as he picks up his pace through the mansion, his ears ringing in a cacophony of panic before he enters his room, and slams the door behind it.

For a moment, he just pants and gasps and stares at the dark wood before leaning forward and resting his forehead against the cool surface, even as his face burns at the memory that he’ll never be able to wipe from his mind. Would he even get rid of it if he could?

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut, clenching his hands into fists, and banging his head lightly against his own door.

 _Gods_ , maybe he really should send Victor away from the mansion.

Or… send for Victor to come to his room.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: [Now with ART!!!!](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1128748172770193408)
> 
> My Discord server is an awful, terrible influence.
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9)


	2. Epilogue - Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically takes place after both Resplendent and Retribution, but no spoilers for the latter! (Definitely spoilers for the former.)

Yuuri wakes up… content. It’s something so warm and heavy and comforting in his bones that Yuuri doesn't really care to move. He doesn’t care to know how he fell asleep, or where he is, he just wants _this_ , and he takes it.

At least until something strokes through his hair, gentle and reverent.

He hums, nuzzling into his pillow… that’s pretty un-pillow-like.

“Did I wake you?”

Yuuri blinks his eyes open, the suns at their peak nearly blinding him and making him squint. Not that he really needs to see to recognize the soft voice murmuring so close.

Victor leans over him, smiling so tentatively that Yuuri knows exactly what he’s thinking. That first time they’d woken up together hadn’t exactly been… fun, but they’ve woken up dozens of times since in each others arm since, and Yuuri’s never felt more safe.

“G’morning,” Yuuri manages to get out, voice rough and gravelly. “Do it again.”

“What?” Victors brow furrows as he searches Yuuri’s face.

“Hair.” Yuuri flops his hand up towards his head in some sort of gesture.

But Victor understands his request, smiling broadly as he reaches out with one hand and runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri lets out a deep sigh, a smile spreading wide across his face as he shifts on the pillow—no, Victor’s thigh. A shiver runs through him at the contact, at the delicate scratch of Victor’s fingers against his scalp and the gentle pulling of them through his slightly-longer hair. Yuuri would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least partially growing it out because he loves when Victor does this, and he’s seen how much he appreciates the added length.

“Did you sleep well?” Victor murmurs, his fingers staying busy.

Yuuri hums, not bothering with words yet. Gods, this is one of the best feelings in the worlds.

Victor gives a soft chuckle. “You know, I never suspected that Death himself would be such a lazy bum when he finally started accepting help from others.”

Yuuri snorts, then opens an eye enough to glare. “You’re one to talk.”

Victor’s face breaks into a wide grin, so contagious that Yuuri can’t resist it for long before he’s returning it.

Yuuri lets out another contented sigh, half of him wanting to go back to sleep, the other half wanting to hear more of Victor’s voice and feel s much of Victor’s touch as he can get. “How long was I asleep for? Your leg has to be completely dead by now.”

Victor’s smile develops a wicked edge, but nothing truly harsh. “Why, are you going to reap it?”

Yuuri closes his eyes, giving his head a slight shake. “And who knew Spring was _such_ a dork when he finally let go of all that pointless guilt?”

Victor scoffs. “I wasn’t pointless—”

Yuuri turns his head to glare at him full-on.

“Fine.” Victor huffs, but his one had still caresses with such careful movements as he plays with Yuuri’s hair that it’s obvious it’s not actually mad.

“You didn’t answer my question, how long was I out?” Yuuri murmurs, staring up into Victor’s open, beautiful face.

“An hour or so.” Victor’s brow wrinkles. “I think.”

Yuuri blanches. “Victor, you have to be so bored!”

Victor hesitates for a fraction of a second, then shakes his head. “No, I was… I made you something. I was busy.”

Yuuri’s mind tries to scramble itself further awake, but he only winds up more confused. “What?”

Victor glances around for a moment, then sighs. “It’s not much, but…” He lifts the hand not running through Yuuri’s hair, and he’s holding… flowers?

No, a flower crown.

It’s built largely from lilacs of all shades—they’re napping under a small bush of them, after all—but between them are large bursts of white, and of _course_ Yuuri recognizes daisies.

“For me?” Yuuri whispers, not trusting his voice if he said it any louder.

“I know it’s a little silly, and honestly I’m so out of practice making these that I don’t even know if it’ll stay together very long, you were just asleep, and beautiful and…”

Yuuri pushes himself off of Victor’s lap, only mourning the loss of intimacy a fraction of a second before looking Victor directly in the eye. “It’s _beautiful_ Victor.”

Victor’s eyes widen a little. “Y-you like it?”

“I _love_ it.” Yuuri smiles. “Can I wear it? Will you put it on me?”

A slight kiss of pink spreads across Victor’s cheekbones and his nose. “Of course, Yuuri.”

Yuuri bows his head down a bit, trying to be patient as Victor slowly, hesitantly reaches out and places the flowers onto Yuuri’s head. It doesn’t weigh very much at all, but Yuuri can _feel_ it, the warm hum of Victor’s power and a touch of his own flowing through the life that blooms through the crown. And it’s almost softer than usual, like Victor was able to weave in his own emotions and gift them for Yuuri to keep now and forever. A reminder.

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath, blinking back tears as he gives a wide grin. “How do I look?”

Victor just stares at him for a long moment, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. “ _Yuuri_.”

Warmth blooms along Yuuri’s cheeks, and he barely resists the urge to look away. “Good, I take it?”

Victor leans forward, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s. “Oh, Yuuri, you’re so beautiful, always. I’m so lucky.”

“We’re both lucky,” Yuuri murmurs, eyes hooding as he leans in a little closer.

“May I?” Victor murmurs against his lips, though he _knows_ , though Yuuri’s told him it’s okay—but Yuuri understands how he needs these reassurances, sometimes. Hell, he needs enough of his own at times.

And he wants it so badly, but…

“Wait.” Yuuri presses a quick peck to Victor’s lips before turning away.

He knows that he owes Victor nothing for this, but he wants Victor to be able to feel his love like Yuuri can. He wants to make sure Victor’s as assured as he can be.

Yuuri reaches out a hand to the bush that they’re under, and begins to twist his hand in the air, weaving cool, flowing life between his fingers and wrapping it gently between the blossoms. He lets his fondness and love for his husband— _husband_ ; he thought that word would only ever fill him with dread, and look at him now—come to the forefront of his mind, letting that comfort and fullness be what feeds the flowers to grow and bloom. As they emerge, he twists it in a circlet, breaking it off only to turn to the ground and make quick work of the daisies blooming there.

Yuuri holds it up and frowns. “It’s lopsided.”

“It’s _perfect_.”

Yuuri turns, finding Victor watching him with eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Can I have it Yuuri? Please?”

It’s so very rare for Victor to ask so insistently for anything, to let himself _want_ anything that he doesn’t _need_ , that Yuuri moves before he can even think about it. He reaches out and places it on Victor’s head, and—

Oh.

He’s so beautiful. His silver hair compliments the purples and pinks and blues of the lilacs, the daisies gleaming all the while Victor gives a wide, heart-shaped smile.

“Yuuri, it’s so lovely!” Victor reaches out, wrapping his arms around Yuuri and holding him close.

Yuuri returns the embrace, nuzzling his face as best he can into Victor’s neck without crushing his crown. “ _You’re_ lovely.”

Victor laughs, and Yuuri smiles as he lets his eyes close and just _feels_. He could fall asleep again like this, wrapped up in Victor. But he won’t make Victor hold him up for an _hour…_

“Wait.” Yuuri frowns, pulling back a bit. “That didn’t take you a full hour at _all_. You _had_ to have been bored!”

“Nope,” Victor grins, popping his P. “I spent most of it looking at you, and it was the furthest thing from boring I could think to do.”

“ _Victor.”_ Yuuri tries to scold, but he’s pretty sure his burning face doesn’t help his case.

“You always get up before me Yuuri!” Victor laments, so dramatic that Yuuri’s surprised he doesn’t collapse for effect. “I never get to see you so peaceful and cute—and drooling a little, honestly.”

Yuuri groans. “Victor, would you just kiss me already?”

Victor smiles as he leans in, breathing against Yuuri’s skin, “Gladly.”

Their lips meet, and Yuuri hums in contentment, melting into the moment, the warmth of Victor surrounding him, love seeping into him from the flowers resting on his head. He loses himself in the moment, in the feel of Victor and the comfort that he brings, now. Everything so different than it was back then, and Yuuri wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yuuri has everything, _everything_ he could have ever dreamed for and wanted, and no one can ever take it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll actually have to change some of this after Retribution, but I won't tell you what. ;)
> 
> Anyhow! Some more fluff to soothe your weary, angst-filled souls. I would have made this an actual epilogue, but... absolutely no plot here. Only soft boys. As they DESERVE. Speaking of: That last line is NOT foreshadowing, Yuuri will literally and thoroughly MURDER anyone who tries to hurt his Vitya, and you do not want to fight Death, okay? Okay.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!!! Thank you so much again to everyone who was so amazing and supportive of the end of Resplendent, and thank you to everyone who gives these soft and gooey dorks a read!!!
> 
> [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Tumblr](https://kazul9.tumblr.com//)


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